


Pussy Patrol

by LightofEvolution, MrBenzedrine89



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 22:38:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16417343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightofEvolution/pseuds/LightofEvolution, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrBenzedrine89/pseuds/MrBenzedrine89
Summary: Loved ones from Hermione and Draco’s lives go missing. Now it’s up to them to figure out where they’ve gone and what they’re up to. But will it bring them closer together in the process?





	Pussy Patrol

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot was written for the Strictly Dramione Halloween Fest 2018. We’re thanking the hosts for letting us partake as a team in this friendly fest. No copyright infringement is intended, and we‘re not making money with this. 
> 
> A giant shout-our to sleepygrimm who made this wonderful aesthetic and for being the kind and generous person she is!

Three days were enough to make Draco worry.

 

Three days in which she hadn’t come to his bed in the evenings.

 

Of course, she usually disappeared some time in the night. But he enjoyed falling asleep with her by his side. Hopefully, nothing happened to her. Hogwarts and the entire wizarding world might be a safer place after the War, but one could never knew what evil lurks in the dark corners of the night. Or in the Forbidden Forest.

 

He had to find her. Had to bring her back into his arms…  
  
With a faint yawn, Draco stretched beneath the warmth of his covers, debating on if he should dare go in search of her while the others were still awake. He could see Blaise and Theo just across the way across Blaise’s four poster bed, playing a competitive game of Wizard’s Chess. The two had followed Draco back to Hogwarts to finish their education, but really they all knew it was simply an excuse to stay out of the prying eyes of the tabloids. The safety of Hogwarts allowed them some solitude in the aftermath of the War, and none of them were ready to give that up just yet.   
  
But if his mates caught him leaving in the middle of the night, he knew they would tease him. They thought he was too attached to her as it was, and to search for her when she was probably fine would give them something to snigger over for weeks to come.   
  
“I know I’m handsome as the devil himself, but your staring is making me think you might fancy me,” said Theo as he smirked in Draco’s direction.

 

“You wouldn’t know how to handle me, Theo,” Draco deadpanned.

 

Blaise laughed at the two, knowing from experience that the two of them were often rude in their expression of friendship. They were young, virile, testosterone filled wizards, after all.

 

“Not as well as your pussy handles you.” Theo smirked and Draco groaned; this was the reaction he had wanted to avoid.

 

“At least, I have a pussy to keep me warm at night!” With that he climbed out of his bed, threw on a jumper, and left out of the portrait hole and into the darkness of the night.

 

He called her name numerous times. Promised her fine goods. Threatened her to withdraw his love. But it was no use.

 

Sekhmet didn’t answer.  
  
But someone else did.   
  
“Malfoy?”   
  
Draco whipped around, illuminated wand in hand, to meet the bright but utterly miffed eyes of one Hermione Jean Granger, clutching a pile of books to her chest and looking at him with mild curiosity.   
  
“Sorry, Granger. I’m not in the mood to join any one of your many liberation cults tonight.” He made a shooing gesture with his free hand, encouraging her to scamper off from whatever hole she had crawled out of just to annoy him.

 

“Excuse me? Believe it or not, I am not always in a mood to liberate some repressed and enslaved creatures!” she hissed, and Draco took a step back. Granger seemed to be in a violent mood tonight.

 

“Your monster of hair says otherwise. You should really liberate _that_ mistreated creature soon,” he snarled, mostly out of reach when she attacked him with one of the heavy tomes she carried.

 

Suddenly, all anger left her, and she sighed. “I am sorry, Malfoy. I let my emotions get the best of me. And even though you deserve it, it’s not fair to be so vindictive towards you.”

 

Draco blinked, confused. What had just happened? Hermione Granger, swot par excellence, apologised to _him_? That was...dangerous and intriguing at the same time. And even though he dreaded the answer, he (or rather the manners instilled in him) felt obligated to ask: “Is everything alright? Or did the redheaded rodent you call your boyfriend do something stupid again?”

 

She was so far gone that she wasn’t even surprised about his question. “No. It’s not that. And Ron and I… let’s say we decided to part as long as the peace lasted between us.”

Draco, unsure of how to react to this, turned to what he knew best: scoffing and brushing off the admission. “Does it look like I care about your relationship status, Granger?”  
  
Her eyebrows mashed together. “ _You’re_ the one who called him my boyfriend. And anyway, I’m not about to stand here and argue semantics with you. I’m quite busy, thank you very much.” She glanced around him, searching for something unknown amongst the darkened hallway.   
  
“If you’re looking for your dignity, you lost that long ago.”   
  
“Malfoy, I swear on _Hogwarts: A History_ , if you don’t shut that infuriating mouth of yours, I’ll-”   
  
She was cut off by a faint, rattled meow from the end of the hallway, echoing along the walls.   
  
“There you are,” they both said at once. And then they glanced at each other in pure confusion. “What?” Another simultaneous answer.

 

“Wait,” Draco spoke up. “Who are you looking for?”

 

“Well, Crookshanks, obviously!” Granger explained, annoyed.

 

“The ginger beast?” They both hastened towards the direction of the sounds now.

 

“He is no beast! He is kind and warm and…” she rattled off, turning into the next corridor.

 

“And currently fucking my poor kitty like there’s no tomorrow,” Draco finished, aghast.

Really, the sight before them made Draco want to forget everything he knew about reproducing.

 

There Sekhmet was, behind her Granger’s abominable monster, and his beautiful companion was taking it like she’d never get it again. Her long, silver ears were pulled back in unbridled passion - or, at least, Draco assumed it was passion. She looked somewhat between elated and aggravated.   
  
And that’s when he realized: his cat had a better sex life than him.   
  
“ _Crooks_ !” Granger scolded under her breath, hugging her books to her chest as if they could shield her from the sight before her. Then, she sighed. “Oh, who are we kidding? They’re only doing what comes naturally to them…”   
  
Draco quirked an eyebrow and gave Granger a skeptical look before trailing his eyes back to the felines in the throes of passion. “Sekhmet’s really lowered her standards, if you ask me.”   
  
“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“Look at her! She is all beauty and grace while your pet... “

 

“Isn’t. Yes, Ron tells me that every time he sees him. But still - your cat looks like she enjoyed it, doesn’t she?” The smugness on Granger’s face was annoying. But Draco had to admit she was right.

 

Sekhmet and her _partner_ had finished their nightly pleasures and were cleaning themselves now. Both with a very satisfied expression on their furry faces.

 

“That’s only because she has no one to compare to. She was a virgin until tonight!”

 

Granger snorted at his words and turned on her heel, gesturing for her familiar to follow her. “Sure, Malfoy. Believe what you want. But she was as virginal as I am when the two of them met tonight.”

 

Draco had no idea of how to react. None. All his quippyness was taken from him by this confession of Gryffindor’s good girl. He watched her fade back into the darkness from whence she came, her hair being the last thing to disappear, along with the whipping motion of an ugly, crooked tail at her ankles.   
  
Sighing, he glanced down to Sekhmet, who was happily weaving between his ankles and purring. “Him? Of all the flea-ridden, patchy, mangy cats lurking around Hogwarts, you chose _him_ ?”   
  
Sekhmet chirped happily at her master’s feet.   
  
“Come on, girl.” He bent down and scooped the floofy Norwegian Forest cat into his arms, kissing her on the nose. “We’re going back to bed, and then in the morning we’re having a long talk about your standards and why you should raise them.”   


* * *

 

Hermione met Draco again in the wake of the Halloween celebrations. Of course, she saw him in class, and in the Great Hall, and on the Quidditch pitch when he played against Gryffindor in a friendly pick-up match; but on Halloween, she met him face to face.

 

Crookshanks had gone missing again and she started to worry.

 

_Before_ , he came for an evening snuggle each and every day.

 

_Before_ , he never made her afraid that something happened to him.

 

Before, she knew he was strong, and brave, and had claws he knew how to use.

 

But that was before she had to fear for his life. It was before the War, when she had to leave him at the Burrow, leave him to fend for himself.

 

Of course, she had always known he was a brave one, a true Gryffindor. Still, when he had shown up on the third of May, his fur scorched in some places and entirely vanished in others, carrying an Acromantula leg proudly between his teeth - she had been reduced to a geap of tears and cooing and sobs.

 

But since this moment, Hermione constantly worried for Crook’s wellbeing.

 

And that was why she had left her friends during Halloween celebrations and sayashed (she wore high heeled boots!!) through the corridors of Hogwarts. Her skin-tight suit cut off her breathing, and the metal plating around her breasts (because realism was key) pressed up against her, making her chest fuller than it really was. Needless to say, it was difficult to get around in, but a strong female lead needed to be represented in the sea of ‘sexy healers’ and pun-related costumes.  
  
Some of the more traditional students weren’t fond of dressing up, but the professors of Hogwarts were attempting to unify the classes by implementing muggle customs to make Muggleborns and half bloods more comfortable. Only a handful of purebloods didn’t dress up - the rest of the school went with the flow, and here Hermione was, as Wonder Woman, again searching the halls for her beloved cat.   
  
In hindsight, she probably should have transfigured herself into some more comfortable clothing, but her mission was too important to care about such trivial things. Onwards she marched, her bushy curls bouncing this way and that.   
  
“Crooks!” she would call every hundred feet or so. The halls were cold, gusty, and not at all welcoming. Occasionally, she’d pass a couple making out against a statue or painting, but she paid them no mind except to ask them if they had seen a fluffy, orange, smooshed-faced cat roaming the halls. She _might_ have gotten a few scathing looks for that.   
  
As she rounded a new corner heading toward the kitchens, she heard the faint rustle of fabric somewhere nearby. As there were no tapestries hung, she had to wonder where the sound came from and proceeded with caution. _Hogwarts is safe,_ she reminded herself. _The War is over. You don’t need to be so jumpy. It was probably another snogging_ \---   
  
“AHHH!!” She lurched forward and swung her elbow back when something grabbed her around the middle from behind, swinging the offending arm into whatever had touched her.   
  
“OOF!”   
  
Her eyes focused, momentarily impaired by the adrenaline rush coursing through her veins, and she realized it wasn’t a _what_ but a _who._ A white-blond-haired who was as pale as midnight and wearing a long, flowing cape the color of crimson around his shoulders. She noticed then that her elbow was still connected with his nose, frozen in horror and shock.   
  
“MALFOY! WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!?”   
  
Draco Malfoy stumbled back, clutching his nose and hissing, “Bugger it all, Granger! You’re stronger than you look!” He blinked, rubbing his nose and giving it a once over with his finger tips.   
  
“What were you doing?” Hermione asked again, crossing her arms over her chest.   
  
“I was trying to get a fright out of you!” he sneered back. “Looks like it worked.”   
  
“Have you ever heard about a little thing called _consent?_ ”   
  
“So now I’m supposed to ask if I might scare you before I do it?” He rolled his eyes, finally bringing his hand away from his face. Dark circles encompassed his eyes, and he appeared far more pale than he normally did.   
  
“You grabbed me around my waist,” she shot back, huffing. “You should never put your hands on a lady without proper clearance.”   
  
“Next time I’ll be sure to file paperwork three months in advance,” he grumbled. “It wasn’t like that, for the record. If I had wanted to touch you...like _that_ ...you’d have known.”   
  
“Again: consent!” She wagged a finger at him crossly. “And believe me, Malfoy! You’d never get it.”   
  
“Don’t flatter yourself into thinking I’d want it.”   
  
Ignoring his words, Hermione asked, “Have you seen Crookshanks?”   
  
“Is that why you’re out here roaming these halls instead of dancing with your idiotic friends?” Malfoy sniggered under his breath. “Follow me.” He said not a word more, gesturing with his shoulder for her to follow him, and without thinking much on it, she did just that. _Clack, clack, clack_ went her boot heels as she followed him down, down, down until she realized where they were headed.   
  
“Malfoy, why are we going to the Slytherin dorms?” When he didn’t answer, she continued, “If this is your idea of some Halloween prank, I won’t fall for it.” Still, he didn’t answer. Aggravated, Hermione decided to focus her energy on other things, like his attire. Pale makeup...dark circles...long, flowing cape…”Oh my goodness!” She stopped dead in her tracks and yanked him by the cape, causing him to stumble backwards. “You’re dressed as a vampire!”   
  
Malfoy turned around and smirked. “Nothing gets passed you, fuzz-head.”   
  
“That’s species appropriation!” she reprimanded him.   
  
“Oh really? Tell me, have you ever met a vampire that wasn't pale? That didn’t have dark rings around their eyes? That didn’t dress eccentrically?”   
  
“You’re stereotyping.”   
  
“If we’re going to talk about costumes, perhaps we should focus on yours? Where’s the rest of it?” He gestured to her bare shoulders and exposed legs.   
  
“I’m Wonder Woman!”   
  
“It’s a _wonder_ your breasts haven’t spilled out of that outfit just by you breathing.” A thick smirk crossed his lips.   
  
Hermione, taken aback (and now fighting the urge to cover herself up with her arms), retaliated with, “So you’ve been staring at my chest, is that it?”   
  
The smirk fell immediately and was replaced with a thick bloom of blush along his unpainted neck. “Come on,” he growled, gesturing for her to follow him. Before long, Hermione found herself led into the Slytherin Common room by means of a secret tunnel. There, curled up on the sofa in front of the fire, were two content cats intertwined in each other’s arms. She recognized one as Sekhmet and the other as her furry companion.   
  
“They’ve been here like this since this morning,” said Malfoy, chuckling under his breath. “I tried to shoo your beast out of here, but he kept coming back any time someone walked in. Eventually, I just gave up.”   
  
“ _This_ is where you’ve been hiding all day?” asked Hermione to Crookshanks, who gave a soft yawn in reply. “I’ve been worried sick about you, you brute!” She turned to Malfoy before swatting him on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”   
  
“It’s not as if you and I are exactly chummy,” he stated as-a-matter-of-factly rubbing his shoulder. “Next time I’ll send an owl.”   
  
She knew he was being sarcastic, but she still said, “Yes. Please do.” Careful as to not expose herself in her costume, she lowered herself onto the floor beside the cats and began petting Crookshanks softly behind the left ear, just where he liked it.   
  
“Erm...what are you doing?”   
  
“What does it look like?”   
  
“It looks like you’re getting comfortable in the Slytherin Common room.”   
  
“I haven’t seen my cat since yesterday afternoon. Forgive me if I want to love on him for a moment.”   
  
“I can’t just _leave_ you in here,” he said. “There are rules.”   
  
“Then join me.” She patted to the spot next to her on the floor in front of the sofa. “Unless you’re a _scaredy cat._ ”   
  
“If that’s your attempt at humor, stick to your day profession.” Begrudgingly, he plopped down next to her. Hermione got a strong whiff of his scent - something like spearmint tickled her nostrils, and despite her best efforts, she found herself leaning closer to him.   
  
“And here I thought you had manners,” she stated, distracting herself.

 

“Pardon me? Of course I have manners!”

 

“Why don’t you offer me a drink then?” Hermione almost grinned when she scrambled to her feet. Though, our heroine wasn’t used to the shift in the center of gravity that came with high heels. And so she stumbled, lost her balance, and-

 

“OOF!” Draco announced for the second time that evening. It might have to do with the fact that she had landed in his lap this time.

 

“Granger,” he brought forth between slightly gritted teeth. “I knew you were clumsy, but that was a poor attempt to throw yourself at me, even for you.”

 

“It wasn’t-” she started, only to realize that there was something hard under her bare thighs and sparsely clad bottom. Not that she was ashamed or surprised. She knew how a young men’s physique worked and could act appropriately when she wanted, thank you very much. But this was just too good. “Well, you can’t say it didn’t work, right?” She grinned and enjoyed the obvious discomfort on Draco’s face a bit too much. Though, now that she had invited herself, she didn’t want to stress his hospitality.

 

“Alright, I just wanted to tease you a bit.” With that, she got up from his lap, turning towards the cats again to give him a chance to adjust himself.

 

“Salazar’s Sack, you really hate me, do you?”

 

It seemed like bending down to pat his beautiful cat didn’t help matters.

 

“Revenge is a dish best served cold and _stiff_ ,” she commented.

 

“That was your idea of revenge for me scaring you?” He sounded disbelieving, and when she looked at him, he had his pale eyebrow raised in a manner that was as attractive as it was unnerving. “Merlin help me.” Then, he cleared his throat. “Okay, may I offer you a drink, Milady Wonder?”

 

Hermione suppressed a laugh that threatened to escape her. “A wine maybe, kind sir? Or a whiskey? I really don’t mind as long as it has more percentage volume of alcohol than butterbeer.”

 

“Whiskey it is.” Draco winked at her and went God-knows-where to fetch her order.

 

Wait. Draco _winked_ at her?   


After she had sat on his lap and made fun of his physical reaction to her?

 

Merlin help her, were they flirting?

 

A coughing noise brought her back to reality. Another, wetter cough. Then-

 

“ _Urgh._ Crookshanks! Must you to do that? That’s not very polite when you’re a guest!” Her pet had regurgitated what looked like the fur of a rat or a mouse or whatever he had hunted in the depth of the castle.

 

She was about to vanish the mess when Draco reappeared, two whiskey tumblers in one hand and an expensive looking bottle in the other.

 

“It’s disgusting when they do that, right? But I read it’s the normal way to get rid of the bits they can’t digest.”

 

Accepting the tumbler he held out to her and sitting down on the couch (with her bottom on the fabric this time, not on him), she voiced her mock desperation. “You can read?”

 

But instead of another quip, the blond gave a barking laugh that was too pleasant in her ears.

 

“I guess I deserve that.” Pouring the whiskey that, judging by the label, must have cost more than the reward that came with her Order of Merlin, he sat down next to her. “Although, given Crookshanks situation, I must say he shows almost the same habits as Sekhmet.” She must have shown her confusion, for he explicated, “He isn’t pure, is he?”

 

Hermione was halfway through the door with an angrily hissing Crooks under her arm when Malfoy stopped her by grabbing her by the shoulder and turning her back around gently.

 

“For goodness sake, Granger. I didn’t mean it like _that_.”  

 

She wanted to swear and curse and hex him, but instead she gave him the benefit of doubt. He hadn’t put one toe over the line since the War, after all. He had worked hard in class, even with - if you believed the rumour mill - several affairs going on.

 

“Then how did you mean it?”

 

“It was an observation. He is very large, and he moves so quickly. And then there are those purple flecks in his eyes.” Hermione was surprised he had observed her pet so keenly. “He is a half-kneazle, isn’t he?”

 

“Yes,” she replied, patting said’s pet’s head to calm him absentmindedly. “He’s very loyal. It broke my heart when I had to leave him back. In the War.” She allowed him to lead her back to the sofa. “You’re the first person that noticed the purple flecks. A good observer, you are.”

 

“Thank you. Now, will you let him go again? I’d hate to disappoint my cat, and she’s looking very expectantly at me right now.” Again, this open honesty when it came to his cat took Hermione off guard.

 

“Sure.” With that, she released Crooks, and he ran off to his love interest happily. Purring, Sekhmet welcomed him back. Of course, she hadn’t gotten up in the whole ordeal and instead waited like a queen on her throne until her king came back from the unfair battle.

 

“She really is beautiful, isn’t she?” Hermione complimented, her eyes remaining on the two familiars. Her nose was filled enough with his scent as it were at the moment. She didn’t need to look Draco Malfoy in the face to know he sat very close next to her.

 

“Yes is,” he admitted, almost reverently. “But that wasn’t always the case…” The room fell silent, as if he was debating something important, and then he said, “She found me.”

Hermione felt her face turning toward him before she knew it, and she found that they were eye to eye now. She took a swig of her alcohol to keep the awkward tension between them at bay as he continued.

 

“The War was...well, I don’t need to tell you. We both lived it.” He took her drink and sipped idly before handing it back. “This one day, maybe a week after my trial, she just...showed up. I’ve no idea how she made it past the wards, but she did. Nothing magical or particularly eye catching about her. She was a thin thing with patches missing from her coat and no front claws. Barbarians, those muggles. Removing something that comes naturally to a creature.”  
  
Listening to him go on, Hermione felt a small band in her chest unwind. She’d never heard him speak so fondly of any creature, let alone coming to defense of one.   
  
“Declawing is horrible,” she agreed, dragging her eyes away because, dare she think it, she noticed how his eyes matched the color of his cat’s fur; a blueish silver that glistened in the light of the dying fire. “She looks to be a Norwegian Forest Cat.”   
  
Malfoy shrugged. “I could care less what she is. Sure, _I_ took her in, but in actuality, _she_ saved _me._ ”   
  
“I feel that way about Crooks.” She nodded in agreement. “Everyone thought he was an ugly little thing.”   
  
“I hate to break it to you, Granger, but I don’t think that cat has ever been ‘little’ a day in its life.”   
  
“Oh, hush,” she scolded him, brushing her shoulder against his playfully. “To be honest, I’m surprised your cat isn’t black.” At the confusion on his face, she added, “You know. To match your soul.”   
  
“No worries. I don’t have one.”   
  
Hermione stared, unmoving for a moment, until his lips curled into the beginning of what might have qualified as a smile.

 

“You really have a weakness for ugly gingers, don’t you?” he chided.  
  
“Well, and I’m assuming it’s Ron you’re probably referring to, Crookshanks is more than what the eyes can see.” Crooks chose exactly this moment to start cleaning himself and lick his balls. “Deep, _deep_ down…”   
  
“I’ve learned to not judge a book by its cover.” Malfoy shrugged, stealing her drink once more. “Take Sekhmet for example: when I found her, she was just as ugly as that fellow there, but now she’s regal. And she’s the best companion I could have ever asked for.”   
  
“My mother says I shouldn’t be so reliant on Crooks for comfort, but she doesn’t understand. He’s my--”   
  
“--Best friend?” offered Malfoy, and Hermione nodded. “We might not agree on a lot, Granger, but _that_ I understand in great detail.”   
  
The tension between them was already thick, though Hermione couldn’t quite pinpoint as to how it happened in the first place. Maybe it was the way his eyes flickered in the firelight, or the way he held her drink in his hand like it was caressing it with his fingertips, or the way there was hardly any room to speak of between their faces now. Something shifted, and she couldn’t explain it.   
  
“Are you going to drink all of the alcohol tonight?” she whispered, her voice uncharacteristically low and raspy.   
  
Malfoy tilted his head slightly, eyes scanning her face thoughtfully. A faint but mischievous smirk appeared, and he took a long pull from the glass in his hand. Then, oh so carefully, he scooted closer, nearly nose to nose with her, the scent of whiskey hanging off of his breath along with that spearmint she loved so well. “Sorry there, Granger. I was being selfish. Here.” He dipped his head forward and soft, warm lips brushed against her own.   
  
Hermione’s senses nearly exploded at the small action, and she found herself whimpering faintly when he drew his lips away, still nose to nose with her.   
  
“Was there something I was supposed to ask about consent?” he teased.   
  
By the scruff of his cape collar, Draco Malfoy found himself being yanked forward by Hermione Granger into a frenzied kiss that caused him to nearly drop the whiskey in his hand. And oh - he tasted devine. His lips were as smooth as they were supple, and he worked them against hers with just the right amount of pressure. It started off with smaller, testing kisses that soon found a rhythm and transformed into nips and licks and the gentle touches of tongues.   
  
Neither one of them were in a hurry to break away. Hermione felt a warm hand brush against the side of her neck, cradling her and holding her closely. The next moment, the tumbler of whiskey was spilled on the rug next to them as Hermione found her way into his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck. The kissing intensified, complete with hair tugging, sighing, and the occasional roll of pelvises. The hardness between his thighs was back, pushing against the thin material of her costume and reminding her of how long it had been since she’d _been_ with someone. Her body pulsed against his, and her hips swirled, and soon the rhythm of their lips matched the way they bucked against each other.   
  
Malfoy wasn’t the god of dry-humping, but he wasn’t bad at it, either. He seemed comfortable, in his element, and he handled Hermione with just the right amount of pressure and speed, cooking up a beat that had them panting within minutes.   
  
Hermione could feel herself climbing up that ladder of pleasure, and by the way Malfoy was breathing and sighing, he was right there with her. It wouldn’t occur to her until later that this was _Malfoy_ . In this moment, they were just two bodies pressed against each other, hoping to feel that glorious friction again.   
  
“Bloody Hell. Would you get a look at that? We weren’t the only ones with a good time on the mind.”   
  
Hermione and Malfoy jerked away and spun their heads around the sofa, meeting the grins of Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, and… “Luna?” Hermione gasped, noticing the way she held both of the boy’s arms.   
  
“Oh, hello!” she stated cheerfully, releasing Theo’s arm to wave.   
  
“Holy Hell,” Theo exclaimed, “that’s Granger!”   
  
“What?” Blaise furrowed his eyebrows and squinted. “Damn, Granger. You got some tits on you, don’t you?” He gestured to her heaving cleavage barely tucked within the confines of her outfit. “Hardly recognized you.”   
  
“I…” She looked down to Malfoy, who seemed just as surprised as her. “I should go.”   
  
Malfoy’s brows creased, but he nodded and released her, allowing her to stand up. Saying nothing, she gathered up Crookshanks and pushed her way past the trio, her face a bright crimson and her heart stammering wildly within her chest. She didn’t stop until she’d made it up three flights of stairs, past the Fat Lady, and flung herself (and Crooks in the process) onto her bed. He gave a muffled growl and tapped his tail but otherwise laid perfectly still as she clung to him like a teddy bear and whispered, “Oh, Crookshanks...what did I just do?” 

* * *

 

 

Awkward. Embarrassing. Ungainly. Discomfited.

 

So many adjectives, and none of them qualified to describe the emotions running through Draco when he came close to Hermione for the first time after…. after whatever had happened between the two of them on Halloween. Though, his cock could probably explain in in great detail how it had been deprived of the wonderful woman.

 

As it were, they happened to run each other in Greenhouse Four, just after the clock struck midnight.

 

“I don’t know about the powers of Wonder Woman outside of her uniform, but stealth is certainly none of them.” Draco drawled sarcastically when he spotted Hermione behind a giant, snoring plant.

 

To her credit, she wasn’t even surprised to see him. Instead, she looked at him with a slightly nervous smile. And her huge, brown pupils reflected the moonlight shining through the greenhouse’s windows. She was really beautiful, wasn’t she? Before he could chastise himself for such an idiotic thought, she started talking.

 

“Uhhh...good evening?”

 

Thank Merlin, she felt as awkward as him.

 

“Good evening?” he tried to put some of his usual cockiness into his posture and raised an eyebrow. What she probably couldn’t see because it wasn’t exactly bright where they stood.

 

“What do you expect me to say, Malfoy? Such a coincidence! Do you come here often?”

 

Some awkward seconds of silence followed in which he pondered of how to react.

 

Then, he could hear her giggling, a pleasant, tingling sound he had never heard before. “Sorry! It’s just that… since Halloween…”

 

“Yes. That was….”

 

“So uncharacteristic of me,” she admitted.

 

“The Golden Girl making out in the Slytherin Common room?” He really couldn’t help the bitterness in his words.

 

“That’s not what I meant,” she conceded sharply, and Draco swore her eyes glowed ember in consternation. “I am not so spontaneous usually. Or go so far on a first date.”

 

“That was a date?” He felt something hopeful creeping up behind all the awkwardness and bad history between them.

 

“We had a drink, we talked, we dressed up. So, yes, even without a causal connection between those events, I think one could say that was a date.” She gave a small laugh. “If you squint really hard, that is.”

 

“We had one drink, Granger. That was what started the catharsis in the first place.”

 

“Aristotle, Draco?” The use of his first name felt still unusual to him. Remarkably and pleasantly so.

 

“Would you expect from an evil cockroach like me?” he teased. “But I would like to show you that I can be more than a dead man walking alive.”  


She snorted at his words and he joined in. This was… more than pleasant, standing in the dim light of the moon, with an impressive witch, the both of them lead there by fate.

 

Wait.

 

“How did you know where to look for Crookshanks?” he wanted to know, his mind suddenly on the circumstance that brought him out of bed in the first place.

 

Draco swore she sounded smug when she answered, “GPS tracker in his collar. Very useful. And you?”

 

“An educated guess. She loved Mother’s precious plants back at home. Drove my mother crazy when she-” he stopped, suddenly alert. He turned around, searching for the biggest and thickest plant.

 

“Oh no.” Hermione intoned. “Crooks nearly gave Molly a heart attack when he vanished in the garden: She has those highly decorated pumpkin plants and he, well…”

 

She didn’t have to finish. Draco already knew what she wanted to say.

 

And as if on clue, there was a rustling of leaves, followed by purrs in two different feline voices.

 

“Sekhmet! Did you and Crookshanks…”

 

“-poo?” Hermione supplied helpfully.

 

“- into Madam Sprouts priceless Angel’s Trumpet and Belladonna hybrid?” He couldn’t accept that!

 

A proud meow was his answer. Of course they had.

 

“Madam Sprout will let us fail Herbology if she gets wind of that!” Hermione muttered.

 

“ _If_ she gets wind of that.” A plan was developing in his head, and his confidence grew with every syllable. “How should she know it was our cats? I mean, for all we know, it could have been any cat at Hogwarts!”

 

“Right.” She didn’t sound entirely convinced, so he decided he needed to distract her.

 

“The bottle is still half full.”

 

“It all depends on the perspective, doesn’t it?”  


“No, Grang- _Hermione,”_ he corrected, “the bottle from Halloween. It is still half full, and I intend to share it with you now. Two glasses.”

 

A pause.

 

“Really? Now? In your Common room?”

 

“I thought more about my bedroom, but-”

 

“Okay.” Draco could more hear than see her smile at this point. “Add a bit of catnip for our royal couple over there and we won’t need two glasses. Sharing one was part of the appeal, wasn’t it?”

 

Two mewls at the word ‘catnip’ told him the pets were game for the plan. Which he almost overheard because of a hand grabbing his and pulling him gently to the door.

 

* * *

 

Some undefined time later...  
  
“Push!” Draco said, the exertion and struggle of the past hours clearly visible on his face.

 

“It’s all your fault, Malfoy!” Hermione accused him, the cheeks pink and the eyes glazed. She looked like a goddess.

 

“My fault? We both should have been more careful!” Suddenly, all defensiveness left him. His shoulders sagged, and he looked at the pained female’s face. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this; I’m not exactly known for my responsible traits!”

 

“We will go through this together.” Hermione placed a hand on his arm, calming him. He could only nod and thread his fingers through hers.

 

He couldn’t tell how much time had passed when his girlfriend grinned proudly and handed him a small, squirming newborn.

 

“It’s so small…” Draco whispered in awe.

 

“Well, that’s because it has to share the place in its mother’s tummy.” Hermione tried to cover it, but she was as emotional as Draco was. He recognised the slight vibration in her voice, and she only did that when she was nervous or very emotional. Like when she had told him she loved him.

 

“Merlin, Malfoy, are you crying?” That was Weasley, of course. What was he even doing here? It wasn’t as if he had a close relationship to the father-to-be. Oh, right, he was Pansy’s newest conquest.

 

“No!” he answered resolutely in Ronald’s direction, hastily blinking away the sudden wetness in his eyes.

 

“For Salazar’s sake, Draco, it’s a kitten, not your newborn child you’re cradling!” Pansy’s eye roll could be heard through the room. “Though, by the speed you two are going at, I wouldn’t be surprised if these kittens are only training dummies for the next Malfoy heir.”

 

Draco wanted to turn and tell her to screw herself when the tiny kitten in his hands made a noise somewhere between a mewl and a squeak. How could he be angry when he saw the wonders of life and they were so precious?

 

“How many more, Hermione?”

 

Hermione ran her wand over Sekhmets swollen belly. “Four, I think.”

 

“Well, the Weasel’s mother did that seven times, it can’t be that difficult, can it?” His jab was aimed at the room behind him, but the hiss from Sekhmet was definitely directed at him.

 

* * *

 

“We should name this one Ronald, I think,” Hermione presented him a ginger kitten, the only one in the breed with reddish fur. The others had inherited Sekhmet’s colouring.

 

“Remind me to never let you name our children,” Draco commented drily. Then, it occurred to him what he had implied with his words, and he froze.

 

Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed. They both knew they were years from even discussing that topic, their relationship and they too young to go there. And they both knew it, but Draco was still relieved that she grinned at him. “What? You don’t think your father will be overjoyed when you introduce him to Harold Neville or Minerva Ginevra?”

 

He threw his pillow after her - but only after she had placed the kitten in the basket where its mother and siblings lay. Crookshanks had been banned from the area because he was so overprotective with Sekhmet that no one except Hermione had been allowed in the room. Which was a bit of a difficulty for the Slytherin dorms. They planned to let him meet his new family tomorrow.

 

“This is how you treat me after helping your cat to birth her babies? You won’t know what’s coming to you!” She was still giggling, but vanished into the bathroom.

 

Draco grinned and leaned back, thankful that Theo and Blaise had agreed to spend the night elsewhere. When the bathroom door opened again, he wanted to say that aloud - but he couldn't. In fact, his whole breathing had stopped for a moment at the sight before him.

Like the first time when Hermione had worn this outfit, he found it very difficult to take it eyes off her cleavage and her long legs.

 

“What is wrong with you, Malfoy? Never seen a witch in a Wonder Woman costume before? Or did the cat get your tongue?” She winked at him.

 

“Happy Valentine’s Day to me,” was all he could mutter before he pulled her into his lap and kissed her senseless.

 

 

 


End file.
